23.12.2008

It is two hours before my nineteenth birthday, and the first gift i have received- and all i can expect to recieve, is the box of sweets Vladimir gave Andrea and I, one each, for our 'european Christmas'. i have never been so overjoyed by a present, so properly elated that i made Andrea laugh by singing all the way to the busstop. Russian sweets are great, they really have a taste for sugar here- and have devised all manner of chocolate 'konfeti' to satisfy it, and even though i really wouldnt say no to a selection box, my pleasure had nothing to do with the content. in the moment he whipped the silver box out from behind his back, i properly just overflowed in gratefullness and joy. the fact that someone had thought enough of me to remember my Christmas, and make the effort to get me a present, made me so happy. I mused before on the spirit of Christmas which has nothing to do with materialism, but with friendship and family, but honestly, without presents what is Christmas? i dont mean barbie doll houses and mobile phones, or argos, i mean simple heart felt giving. i mean a present meant especially for you, destined from its conception- no matter how commercialised- to make someone think of you. So that you know you arent going to be forgotten. There is something so divine in that. God bless Vladimir for showing me that kindness. He is someone that refutes all the condemnation i could ever think of to write about russian men. I got on the bus with a sparkle in my smile- grinning into every set of eyes that passed over the wrapped box sitting on my knee. but by the time i left SFERA office- i was honestly feeling less cheerful.

when your inbox says you have 14 unread messages- you cant help but to get your hopes up, until you open it and discover that they are all 'merry christmas from gap year' or 'free evs placement in Rome' or viagra adds. And I'm sitting here, imagining the hot chocolates and mince pies all my friends are drinking and eating together, and i do just get jealous. and then despondant. its my birthday. But the reason i left SFERA was also what filled me in such warmth and contentment as i made my way home. So that, as i walked down my street i just wanted to vent one almighty whoop of ovrerflowing joy, and ascended into that place of complete bliss and thankfulness which has absolutely nothing to do with where you are coming from, or where you're going but has absolutely everything to do with exactly who and where you are, and what you are doingin that precise moment. and my life was perfect! how could it not be? i am beautiful, blessed and loved; and more then that- i am alive!

At church on sunday, Sara and I were invited by two russian girls; Olga and Eva for tea. At 6pm i met Olga outside church, and followed her literally around a corner, and then into Eva's flat. Despite their misleading maturity (which istypical of most girls my age; as they start university here at 17), both girls are 19- turning 20, Olga was born in Nizhny, whereas Eva moved here to study from a small city closer to Moscow. She lives alone in an apartment whichbelongs to her parents; as they run what i assume is a pretty successful business. her apartment is another one of the reasons that should make you hate your own accomodation, but i just dont really care anymore. Both Sara andI exclaimed that her toilet was bigger then our rooms (it is pretty huge), and the place is generally clean and well furbished. With modern kitchen counters, gleaming wooden floors etc. its just a nice place to be, and such a welcomechange from the broken down volunteer accomodation we've become used to socialising in. And as i sat in the spacious kitchen, dressed in dark colours, i felt like such a freed convict. Having a linguistically talented father- who speaks three languages fluently, Eva was raised to be bi-lingual, conversing with her father in english and her mother in russian; in otherwords, she has what is probably a native speaker's authority over english. also, they've moved alot betweenRussia and the US- where she went to kindergarden. Similarly Olga, who is also studying at the linguistic university, has pretty fluent english. And Stephanie- the pastor's daughter was over as well. She, like most of the missionary kids at vineyard, has been homeschooled, and although she has what is probably quite an advanced grasp of russian, i think she is still hesitant to speak in it. most of Stephanie's friends are the foreign medical students she befriends at Vineyards Christian Fellowship, which in fact is also true of Olga and Eva. We ate fried banana pieces inside a cooked apple, the apple pie her visiting granny had baked and cookies Stephanie made with her mum. Her granny joined us for dinner- what a tender lady. She is a pretty typical babushka, except that she wasnt wearing a freaky floral dress and didnt seem intimidated by the language barrier. And she is siberian. Through Eva, she told us details of her life, and asked about our own. Eventually she left the table, and of course, within minutes of doing so- the topic of conversation spiraled into that subject which can animate any christian girl, and bonds you with every other; boys. more then boys. husbands.

Living in a city with very few other christians, and no propaganda, ive noticed that the christians here compromise much less. In Bangor its easy to be a sort-of christian, with christians friends, christian accountability etc. etc. but here,youre either a christian or not. when you stumble, there is nothing to convict you of sin except your own conscience; faith is much more personal. and these three, having been raised in christian families, are probably much more traditionaland obedient then us lot (or at least me) at home. These girls are really beautiful, all the more because they are so innocent and sincere. Olga, who is in a long-distant relationship with an american who studied here (who she isalso going to visit in the summer), blushed the most sweetish adorable blush everytime someone teased or questioned her. And Eva's description of her husband was the description of a girl who has dreamed long and hard of it, doesnt see the point in dating but anticipates 'courtship' , and wants to be married at 21, because its a family tradition. Its not that these girls are prehistoic or are nuns, they are all very clever and astute, knowledgeable about politics and history- they just have a very pure understanding of marriage. in some ways it could be misconstrued as naive, rather then optimistic, but its so good to be among people who still have expectations. and when i asked if they wanted to marry russian men, they practically shouted NO! like alot of the women, they agree that russian men are bad news.

In fact, an old women who struck up a conversation with Sara at a busstop the other day, asked her if she had come to find a husband. and when she answered no, the woman replied good, because they all drink and beat their wives. But ive also noticed that russians are very romantic, i see men walking around with flower bouquets, and even Luba- a member of the glamourous set at Masha's party, told me she was waiting for her 'true love'. the women dream of men, only because they all went to war. And despite my sermon yesterday, Eva's opinion on the 'Russian knot' is that 'pride becomes before the fall'; and as a people, they still have alot to repent for. when we left, Sara exclaimed that her heart was melting. They were so sweet. So bright eyed and uncomplicated, with such optimistic hopes and dependance on God. So blessed, as we opened the door into the snow, Sara and I wondered what man could be good enough for any of them.